


enbyfriend

by noahlikeswaffles



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Family Feels, Forehead Kisses, Gender Dysphoria, Genderqueer Character, John Watson Being an Idiot, John Watson is a Good Parent, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Other, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are Parents, Teen Romance, Teen Rosamund Mary "Rosie" Watson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:06:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27315253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noahlikeswaffles/pseuds/noahlikeswaffles
Summary: Rosie brings home someone special, and John has to grapple with some new ideas. Sherlock's there for support. But as always, it's all fine.
Relationships: Rosamund Mary "Rosie" Watson/Original Character(s), Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	enbyfriend

It was Friday afternoon and John was blogging from his armchair, Sherlock was currently doing something in the kitchen that wasn't necessarily cooking, and Rosie would be home from school any minute now. Rosie was sixteen, but she still liked to hang out with him sometimes, and he liked that. It was hard to be the "cool" dad when Sherlock was about, but John had claimed the title if only because Sherlock was a bit of a helicopter parent. Imagine being able to deduce every danger, but having to let her figure it out herself. Poor sod. John stopped typing, just sort of staring at his cold mug of tea. 

"You're thinking too loudly, again," Came a hot foggy whisper in his ear and John jumped before he settled with a stupid grin on his face, his husband's lanky arms wrapped around his neck, his curls flopped forward onto his shoulder. John placed a hand in Sherlock's hair, rubbing at his scalp, smirking as the adorable man purred and collapsed against the back of his chair. 

"Tell me what I'm thinking then," John quipped and Sherlock whirled around, scooping away John's laptop and lay down, his back on John's jean-clad thighs, his eyes staring up at John like saucers.

"You're thinking about Watson," Sherlock said, eyes darting about John's face, "you have the Rosie Wrinkle," Sherlock pressed his pointer finger to the offending crease right by John's lip. 

"I don't have any wrinkles, thank you," John swatted Sherlock's hand playfully before patting out a rhythm on his exposed tummy. The lanky younger man squealed and curled in on himself, sitting up and giggling.

"Ah! Jawn!" He gasped, wrapping himself around John's neck, nose tucked into his ear. John grinned. "But really," He pulled back to look into John's periwinkle eyes that were deep with worry, "is something the matter?"

"No of course not," John gave Sherlock a curious look. 

"Yep. Definitely worried." He sprawled off John's lap and gracefully plopped onto his chair, flipping open John's laptop as the older man scrubbed his temples. 

" _Sherlock_ , don't you have an appointment with Ella tonight?" 

"She's on _maternity leave_ ," Sherlock cwoled, his mouth twisted in distaste. 

"I didn't know you hated working women's rights," John chuckled and Sherlock looked up quickly from over the laptop, eyes widened in slight offense.

"I don't like babies. I have no problems with the female sex,"

"You like Rosie,"

"Yes, but she is your spawn, and not an infant." 

"Sherlock you can't call her my spawn anymore it's weird," John pinched the bridge of his nose and stood to make some more tea. 

"I thought you liked weird," He said, typing furiously at John's computer. John smirked to himself as he pulled the tin from the shelf. "You want a cup?"

"Yes, thank- Oh!" Sherlock said from the other room, and John scrunched his eyebrows, looking up at the madman.

"What now?"

"You think she's gone off of you, or she will soon, isn't that it?" Sherlock cocked his head to the side like a puppy and John just watched the kettle with a hint of melancholy. 

"No, it's not that, exactly. She's _sixteen,_ do you know what I was doing, or what my sister was doing at sixteen?" John said with a dark whisper and Sherlock nibbled at his bottom lip. 

"Not precisely, but I have a vague understanding," John gripped the worktop with white knuckles and Sherlock offered, "but my adolescence wasn't, sunshine and rainbows either," 

John hmmed. Posh boarding school cocaine rings and forced rehabilitation came to mind. A young Mycroft pulling any strings he could get his hands on to keep Sherlock from consequence. 

"Rosie's not like us though, is she?"

John almost laughed at _us._ Two crazy, morally ambiguous detectives who ate a little too much takeout and had killed more people than was strictly considered normal. 

"Yeah, you're right, she's not." John sighed, flicking off the now gurgling kettle. 

"I worry too, sometimes," Sherlock said quickly and John smiled. "But if she's anything like you, she'll turn out just fine,"

John opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the sound of the door opening downstairs. Sherlock had turned to his inbox it seemed, going by his annoyed expression at the laptop screen and John splashed his finished tea with milk and added a spoonful of sugar for Sherlock's. There was laughter and footsteps and John paused. Two sets of footsteps? 

"-cats are evil, I much prefer dogs," He heard Rosie say, as the footsteps continued on the landing. 

"Ew dogs are gross," Came another voice, and John looked over at Sherlock, who seemed disinterested. 

"Rosie?" He shouted, "s'that you?" 

"Not likely to be someone else!" She shouted back and John glared at a now smiling Sherlock. 

"Come and say hi before you go upstairs," John grimaced at how much he sounded like his own mother. Rosie pushed open the door and rolled her eyes. She was smiling and went over to get something from fridge. Behind her was someone John hadn't seen before. Just a hair taller than John himself, with short curly black and _green_ hair and tanned skin, and at least two rings in his nose. _Two._

"And who's this?"

"Hi! I'm Rumi! Its lovely to meet you," John gave him a look over, tight denims, big jumper, and took his outstretched hand in his firmest, most authoritative grip. 

"I'm Rosie's dad, this is my husband Sherlock," Sherlock mumbled a greeting as he typed furiously. John gave Sherlock a strong look, his eyes baring into him, urging him to look up. Sherlock got the telekinetic message and looked up to analyze Rosie's new _friend._

"Yeah, ha ha, I know, Rose warned me," _Rose, eh?_ Getting a bit friendly. Maybe a bit _too_ friendly. John knew full well he was mad, so he tried to be friendly.

"Are you two in the same year?" John said cooly, still looking at Rumi. 

"Yeah, uh, we've got a few classes together too," Rosie said shyly, itching at the back of her neck. Flirting. Flirting?? Oh God, it's happening. It's already happened. They should've had the talk sooner, maybe he should've called Molly and asked her to give a demonstration about sexually transmitted diseases. He was a horrible father, horrible. 

"So are you, boyfriend and girlfriend, do they still call it that?" John tried to offer, but caught an _ice cold_ glare from Rosamund. John sighed at her and raised his hands. 

"Sorry, I'm sorry, you just bring home a boy, what am I supposed to think?"

" _John_ ," Sherlock scolded, and the doctor now felt the ice from all directions, except for Rumi, whose smile had faded into a soft frown. 

"What?" 

"Rumi's not a boy, Dad, and even if they were, it's none of your concern. Let's go," She produced two bottles of pop, tossing one to a very apologetic looking Rumi, who followed her upstairs. The slam of the door echoed through the flat and John winced, blinking at the door. What just happened there?

"What the hell was that?" John turned to a rather judgmental Sherlock, his defenses rising, "I was perfectly nice!"

"If I'm not mistaken, you misgendered Rosie's romantic interest, which I imagine is quite upsetting for them,"

"I don't understand,"

"You're a _doctor_ , John, you have to know what gender dysphoria is,"

"Rosie's boyfriend is trans?" John cocked his head and Sherlock scrunched his face in thought.

"Yes, and no. I don't think boyfriend is the proper term."

"So Rosie's- gay?"

" _John_ ," Sherlock groaned, covering his face in frustration. "Rumi seems to be of the non-binary identification, do keep up,"

"I'm not stupid, Sherlock," John growled, and shoved the mug of tea into Sherlock's hands, "But some of us didn't even know being out or bisexual was an option growing up, maybe I'm a little behind the curve,"

"Alright, John, I'm sorry," Sherlock looked up, eyes a bit softer. "Rumi's not a boy, or a girl, they're not either exclusively. So instead of saying her or him, one usually says 'they'. It's not complicated."

"So- not a boyfriend?"

"It would seem not,"

"Right," John sipped at his tea, and leaned on the back of arm chair "So- not a girlfriend either?"

"You're getting there," 

"So what am I supposed to say?"

"Good, you're finally asking the right questions. That would probably be a question for Rumi to answer," 

"Right," John nodded, mildly self conscious of how slow the gears of his head turned compared to his brilliant lover. "That's not too complicated, I guess,"

"Nope." Sherlock said with a hint of a smile. 

"Wait, how do you know so much about this?" 

"I apparently paid more attention at pride then you did,"

"Oh God, don't start," John's consumption of 2 rainbow shaved ices _and_ four pints had lead to a very colourful round of vomiting in the middle of a street. Puking rainbows was both humiliating and apparently was very entertaining to a watching Rosie and Sherlock, who thought it was _hilarious_ to bring up constantly. "God, Rosie's probably gonna hate me for this,"

"She couldn't hate you if she tried, John Watson,"

"So..I should probably fix this?"

"You're asking _me_ for help with a social interaction?"

"Oh God, you're right, oh how the mighty have fallen," John smirked, standing and grasping Sherlock by the sides of his stupid silly face and planting a big smooch on his forehead. He turned to look upstairs and steeled his fists, trying to formulate a game plan to make this right. Into battle. 

**Author's Note:**

> part 2 on it's way! tell me what you think


End file.
